


Let us go then you and I

by kate882



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: M/M, Poetry, the lovesong of j alfred prufrock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-16
Updated: 2015-03-16
Packaged: 2018-03-18 03:57:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3555191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kate882/pseuds/kate882
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A story based on the poem The Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock. I gave it a slightly happier ending than the poem has.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let us go then you and I

_Let us go then, you and I,_

_When the evening is spread out against the sky_

_Like a patient etherized upon a table;_

_Let us go, through certain half-deserted streets,_

_The muttering retreats_

 

Kuroko walked with Akashi, down the sidewalk. It was too late for there to be many people out, but that didn’t seem to lower Akashi’s guard any. The red head still walked with all the dignity of an emperor, poster impeccable, and head held high looking straight ahead.

His hand did brush against Kuroko’s every few minutes though. As if to assure himself that Kuroko was still there. As if Akashi weren’t the one who was going to be disappearing soon.

 

_Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels_

_And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells:_

_Streets that follow like a tedious argument_

_Of insidious intent_

_To lead you to an overwhelming question ..._

_Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”_

_Let us go and make our visit._

 

They stopped to get something to eat on their way, before walking again. Kuroko could feel his hands shaking as they approached the hotel. It was cheap by Akashi’s standards, but still nicer than anything Kuroko could have afforded. The idea was to not be seen by anyone who would recognize Akashi. Although, Kuroko wasn’t sure how much it would matter if someone recognized Akashi, because they wouldn’t even see Kuroko.

When Akashi’s hand touched Kuroko’s again, he glanced sharply over at his companion, apparently having noticed the shaking. Kuroko gave him a look that silently begged him not to ask, so Akashi didn’t, going back to looking in front of them, holding the door open for Kuroko when they reached the hotel.

 

 

_In the room the women come and go_

_Talking of Michelangelo._

_The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,_

_The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes,_

_Licked its tongue into the corners of the evening,_

_Lingered upon the pools that stand in drains,_

_Let fall upon its back the soot that falls from chimneys,_

_Slipped by the terrace, made a sudden leap,_

_And seeing that it was a soft October night,_

_Curled once about the house, and fell asleep._

 

Akashi walked over to the check in desk, leaving Kuroko to listen to the other’s in the lobby talk. They didn’t seem as intoxicated as one might expect from a group of young people standing around a hotel at this hour.

 

_And indeed there will be time_

_For the yellow smoke that slides along the street,_

_Rubbing its back upon the window-panes;_

_There will be time, there will be time_

_To prepare a face to meet the faces that you meet;_

_There will be time to murder and create,_

_And time for all the works and days of hands_

_That lift and drop a question on your plate;_

_Time for you and time for me,_

_And time yet for a hundred indecisions,_

_And for a hundred visions and revisions,_

_Before the taking of a toast and tea._

They walked up the stairs together, not bothering to take the elevator since the group from the lobby had moved into it. It also left more time for Kuroko to change his mind if he wanted to. He considered it. Wouldn’t it only hurt more if he let this happen? But he couldn’t leave things as they were either.

“What time do you have to leave tomorrow?” Kuroko asked.

“My flight is at one. We have plenty of time. If you wake up early enough, we may even be able to get breakfast before I have to gather my things and get to the airport.” Akashi answered.

_In the room the women come and go_

_Talking of Michelangelo._

_And indeed there will be time_

_To wonder, “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”_

_Time to turn back and descend the stair,_

_With a bald spot in the middle of my hair —_

_(They will say: “How his hair is growing thin!”)_

_My morning coat, my collar mounting firmly to the chin,_

_My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin —_

_(They will say: “But how his arms and legs are thin!”)_

_Do I dare_

_Disturb the universe?_

_In a minute there is time_

_For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse._

They went up the last flight of stairs, nothing less than the top floor for Akashi, and Kuroko again considered leaving. It wasn’t as if this was going to matter to Akashi once he was gone. What was Kuroko compared to all of the people Akashi was sure to meet overseas? People who could further his career while also looking the part of a trophy wife. Who was Kuroko to wish any different for Akashi?

_For I have known them all already, known them all:_

_Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons,_

_I have measured out my life with coffee spoons;_

_I know the voices dying with a dying fall_

_Beneath the music from a farther room._

_So how should I presume?_

 

Thoughts like that didn’t matter though. Kuroko may not be who Akashi would stay with, but at the moment he was who he was with. Of all of the people in Japan he could have spent his last night with, he’d picked Kuroko. Why didn’t that make him feel better? Because even still, it was still Akashi’s last night with him.

_And I have known the eyes already, known them all—_

_The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase,_

_And when I am formulated, sprawling on a pin,_

_When I am pinned and wriggling on the wall,_

_Then how should I begin_

_To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways?_

_And how should I presume?_

 

They were on each other as soon as the door was closed behind them, something desperate and needy in their touches. Akashi had him pinned against the wall as if to make sure Kuroko was there, that Kuroko wasn’t leaving him. As if Akashi weren’t the one who would be gone in the morning. He kept his eyes trained on Kuroko’s face as he thrust into him, clearly trying to memorize each expression that crossed his partner’s so often non expressive features. He only looked away to leave bite marks along Kuroko’s neck and shoulders, marking what was not his.

_And I have known the arms already, known them all—_

_Arms that are braceleted and white and bare_

_(But in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!)_

_Is it perfume from a dress_

_That makes me so digress?_

_Arms that lie along a table, or wrap about a shawl._

_And should I then presume?_

Neither of them was sleeping as they lay in bed together, Akashi’s arms wrapped around Kuroko and holding the smaller man to his chest.

But they stayed quite, pretending, for each other’s sakes, that they were asleep since there was nothing left to say. Nothing that would help at least.

_Shall I say, I have gone at dusk through narrow streets_

_And watched the smoke that rises from the pipes_

_Of lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of windows? ..._

_I should have been a pair of ragged claws_

_Scuttling across the floors of silent seas._

_And the afternoon, the evening, sleeps so peacefully!_

_Smoothed by long fingers,_

_Asleep ... tired ... or it malingers,_

_Stretched on the floor, here beside you and me._

_Should I, after tea and cakes and ices,_

_Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?_

_But though I have wept and fasted, wept and prayed,_

_Though I have seen my head (grown slightly bald) brought in upon a platter,_

_I am no prophet — and here’s no great matter;_

_I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker,_

_And I have seen the eternal Footman hold my coat, and snicker,_

_And in short, I was afraid._

As the hours flew by, far too fast and far too slow all at once, Kuroko felt a dampness on his cheeks. He bit his lip to hold back sounds that weren’t going to come. Somehow, Akashi still knew. He didn’t say, but he started running a hand through Kuroko’s hair in a soothing gesture.

_And would it have been worth it, after all,_

_After the cups, the marmalade, the tea,_

_Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me,_

_Would it have been worth while,_

_To have bitten off the matter with a smile,_

_To have squeezed the universe into a ball_

_To roll it towards some overwhelming question,_

_To say: “I am Lazarus, come from the dead,_

_Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”—_

_If one, settling a pillow by her head_

_Should say: “That is not what I meant at all;_

_That is not it, at all.”_

They ordered food from the hotel when the alarm forced them out of their quiet. Kuroko considered telling Akashi. Three simple words. Let him know that he loved him. Perhaps Akashi would reply with something that meant that just because he was leaving Japan didn’t mean he was leaving Kuroko. In the end he said nothing. What was the point? Weather Akashi was leaving him or merely leaving Japan the end result was the same. Akashi would be gone.

_And would it have been worth it, after all,_

_Would it have been worth while,_

_After the sunsets and the dooryards and the sprinkled streets,_

_After the novels, after the teacups, after the skirts that trail along the floor—_

_And this, and so much more?—_

_It is impossible to say just what I mean!_

_But as if a magic lantern threw the nerves in patterns on a screen:_

_Would it have been worth while_

_If one, settling a pillow or throwing off a shawl,_

_And turning toward the window, should say:_

_“That is not it at all,_

_That is not what I meant, at all.”_

They said their goodbyes after breakfast. Akashi called Kuroko a cab to take him home. Akashi’s car arrived first, and Kuroko watched as Akashi disappeared.

_No! I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was meant to be;_

_Am an attendant lord, one that will do_

_To swell a progress, start a scene or two,_

_Advise the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,_

_Deferential, glad to be of use,_

_Politic, cautious, and meticulous;_

_Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;_

_At times, indeed, almost ridiculous—_

_Almost, at times, the Fool._

Kuroko had never needed to be the most important. He was there to help from the shadows. And he would continue to do that, Akashi or no Akashi. Even if it hurt that the option that seemed to have come to pass was ‘no Akashi’.

_I grow old ... I grow old ..._

_I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled._

_Shall I part my hair behind?   Do I dare to eat a peach?_

_I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach._

_I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each._

_I do not think that they will sing to me._

_I have seen them riding seaward on the waves_

_Combing the white hair of the waves blown back_

_When the wind blows the water white and black._

_We have lingered in the chambers of the sea_

_By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown_

_Till human voices wake us, and we drown._

And oh how it felt like drowning every time a magazine or news show speculated on the love life of the most up and coming business man. But when Akashi finally came back to Japan, it was Kuroko whom he sought out upon arrival. Years had passed, but perhaps they could start again.


End file.
